


Without Caution

by Prentice



Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Cheating, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied future break-up, Infidelity, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Jurassic World Fallen Kingdom Compliant, Owen Grady has PTSD, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Problems, Unreliable Narrator, Unsafe Sex, unhappy relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 22:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15205145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prentice/pseuds/Prentice
Summary: After the first time it happened, Owen swore to himself that it would never happen again.





	Without Caution

**Author's Note:**

> So unlike most of the people I went with, I didn't love the new Jurassic World for a variety of reasons, though I did like the concept so, after a long hiatus from writing anything, I figured...porn and angst fixes everything, right...?
> 
> Additionally, Owen isn't in a good place in this fic, mentally or emotionally, so his decision-making isn't at its best here. Even so, everything between him and Zach is a hundred percent consensual and genuine. Even if it's through the lens of infidelity.
> 
> Also, as always, check the tags because I'm not your mother, bff, or therapist and your reading habits are _your_ responsibility so be informed and empowered and have fun! :)

After the first time it happened, Owen swore to himself that it would never happen again. He wasn’t that kind of an asshole, wasn’t that big of a bastard, and he wasn’t going to jeopardize everything he cared for just for a few minutes of meaningless stress relief. And that’s exactly what it was: meaningless stress relief.

It wasn’t anything more than that. It couldn’t be anything more than that. He wouldn’t let it _be_ anything more than that. Not if he wanted to keep his relationship with Claire afloat.

Which he did.

He really did, because Claire, she was amazing. Better than amazing, really. She was everything he could’ve asked for in a partner, not only because she was smart and beautiful, but because she was feisty and stubborn and ready to fight for the things she believed in even if it meant everyone else thought she was crazy for it.

That wasn’t to say she was perfect or didn’t do things that drove _him_ crazy. She did, sometimes more often than not, because no matter how much he cared about her, Owen couldn’t deny that Claire had her issues. Big and little quirks that sometimes got worse depending on how her day went or how she was feeling, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have his own issues too. He did, and that was fine because it meant they were both a little screwed up sometimes. Maybe not in the same ways but…

It worked for them.

At least, he’d thought it was working for them; the clusterfuck on the island and the media shitstorm that followed pulling them tight together and making whatever it was between them grow exponentially before suddenly, painfully dying a slow and agonizing death while they both tried to figure out how to make ends meet in the aftermath.

Claire, by working an entry-level position well-below her pay grade and experience because no one wanted to hire her while her name was still attached to the catastrophe on the island in recent memory, and Owen by taking jobs he’d promised himself he’d never do again once he’d left the Navy and gotten free from taking the kind of orders that left him unable to sleep at night.

Which, if he was being honest, was probably why that first time had even happened in the first place.

He’d been – well, not in a bad place, exactly, but not in a good one either, and he’d known – _known_ – even before he’d walked out the door that he shouldn’t have gone with Claire the way that he had.

Family reunions had never really been his thing after all and with the way they’d been fighting with each other lately it hadn’t seemed like a good idea to force them to spend even more time in each other’s company, especially around her family, but…

She’d asked him.

Asked him even though they’d both been angry and hurting from their latest argument; the messy pile of blankets on the ratty couch in their living room mute testimony to how ugly the fight had been, and he hadn’t felt like he could refuse her.

Not if he wanted to fix this – fix _them_ – because their relationship might not have been completely broken yet, but it was definitely heading in that direction. Had been heading in that direction for a while now, in fact. Even if neither of them wanted to admit it to themselves or each other.

So, he’d said yes.

Even though he shouldn’t have. Even though he’d _known_ he shouldn’t have, because this bullshit between them wasn’t going to magically fix itself. Especially not around her family, her _sister_ , who was recently divorced and maybe a little more bitter about relationships than she would be otherwise, and Owen…

It was stupid of him to have agreed to put himself in the middle of that. Stupid of him to think that maybe this would be the break they both needed. The break they both _wanted_.

Not just from the uncomfortable silences that had started to stretch out between them, but from everything else in their lives too. Like Claire’s crappy desk job or Owen’s growing exhaustion. Like the class action lawsuits that were splashed all over the news every day. Like the absolutely _shit_ bungalow that they’d been renting ever since everything in their lives had imploded and made the horrible tension between them grow and change to an almost unbearable level.

Owen had thought – had foolishly hoped – that this was going to be their chance to get away from all that and just…take a break. Or a timeout, or a pause, or whatever the hell it was they wanted to call it. The point was that they’d just take one, so that they’d both stop going for the jugular every damn time they got into a fight and maybe, just maybe, start listening to one another again.

And so what if Claire would probably be spending most of her time with her sister. Would probably take it upon herself to be there – to be _present_ – for the first time in more years than Owen had known her, because Claire was trying her best to be a better sister after everything that had happened on the island and Owen wasn’t foolish enough to get in the way of that. Even if he didn’t think it would amount to much in the long run because Claire had had her chance to move back to the states and closer to her family months ago and had still chosen to stay relatively close to the island for the time being.

Why, Owen didn’t know and was almost afraid to ask about because, as much as he missed Blue (and he did, sometimes so much he ached to go back to Isla Nublar and find her), he knew that Claire didn’t do failure well and was probably hoping that one day the smoke would clear and the island would be saved and…

He didn’t know, he honestly didn’t, and he didn’t want to think about it because it was hard enough dealing with the here and now, much less some unknown future, and he just – he wanted things to work. With him, with Claire, with him _and_ Claire and it would be nice, just so fucking nice for once, if things could start going their way.

Which was why he went along and why he didn’t mind if Claire spent most of her time with her sister because it wasn’t like he would be alone the entire time.

Not really.

Claire’s nephews, Gray and Zach, were going to be there after all.

At least for part of the time, anyway, because even though Claire’s sister and her ex had shared custody, they’d made some sort of arrangement for the boys to be there to see Owen and Claire, so it wasn’t like he’d be shuffled off to the sidelines and completely ignored the entire time.

Not that that would’ve been a bad thing as far as he was concerned, but he doubted it would do him any good in trying to repair his relationship, and it wasn’t like he minded seeing or spending time with either of the kids.

In fact, it would be a nice change, especially since he hadn’t really seen either of them since a few days after getting off the island, and even though they’d managed to stay in touch over the years, it wasn’t the same as seeing them in person.

He just hadn’t expected for them both to have changed so much.

Or, well, not changed, exactly, because Gray was still just as talkative and hyperactive and _enthusiastic_ about everything as he’d been the last time Owen had seen him three years ago, but it was more that they’d – grown up.

Which was stupid because _of course_ they’d fucking grown up. That’s what kids did. It was just – it was startling was all, and Owen hadn’t really understood how much it would affect him.

Because it had.

It really had, and it wasn’t so much Gray that had bothered him because the kid was just, he was a teenager now, sure, and had the anxious energy of one, but there was no mistaking that shaggy mop of hair or enthusiasm for dinosaurs for anyone else. Even if he’d matured, he was still unmistakably the kid that Owen remembered.

So, no, it wasn’t him.

It was Zach.

Fucking _Zach_.

Christ, that kid – no, no. _Not_ a kid. Not anymore. He was unmistakably a man now, even at just nineteen – twenty, in January, and, _fuck_ , Owen hadn’t expected the kid to be, to look that…

 _Good_.

Better than good, really; the gangly-ness he’d had the last time Owen had seen him seemingly having melted away into something long, lean, and a little more defined. Body filling in and out in all the right places, so he looked less like a strong wind could knock him over and more – solid. Sturdy.

Even his face, which still had the last wisps of baby fat clinging to it, looked different to Owen’s eyes, the soft roundness of adolescence almost entirely scrubbed away. Now, his cheekbones were a little bit sharper. His chin a little bit stronger.  His mouth...

Fuck, his _mouth_.

It was what had gotten Owen into all this trouble in the first place. What was _still_ getting him into trouble, because he couldn’t forget those lips. Couldn’t forget how soft and plump and pink they were. How easy and slow and fucking _perfect_ they’d been when they’d – when he’d –

Goddammit.

God- _fucking_ -dammit.

It was only supposed to have been stress relief.

That was it.

That was _all_.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than that. It wasn’t supposed to even fucking _happen_ for god’s sake. It was just a – a mistake. A big fucking mistake.

He hadn’t planned it. Hadn’t even fucking _thought_ about it. Things had just gotten out of hand.

Owen wasn’t sure _how_ , because it had all started out innocently enough, but it had nevertheless. Which, okay, he knew how that sounded. Knew how it _would_ sound to anyone if he ever tried to explain it, but it was the truth.

What had happened between him and Zach had started out innocently. _Totally_ innocently. No matter what anyone might’ve said about it and he knew, _knew_ , that that wouldn’t cut it if anyone – including Claire, _especially_ Claire – were to find out about it, but that still didn’t mean it wasn’t the god’s honest truth.

He hadn’t planned for any of it to happen. Hadn’t planned for it to turn into what it did. He’d just been – he’d been there, and Zach had been there, and things had just… happened.

Which wasn’t an excuse. He _knew_ it wasn’t an excuse, and he wasn’t trying to pretend that it was, because no matter what else might’ve happened between them, he’d never meant to hurt Claire. Not like this.

She didn’t deserve it. Neither of them did. Claire and Zach.

He’d hurt them both. Even if they didn’t know it yet. Even if they didn’t _realize_ it yet.

He’d put them on opposite sides of a fight that hadn’t even happened yet, and it was all his fault. Especially with how messy it was going to become – and it would become messy, he already knew it would. It had to; he wasn’t a fool.

Claire was a smart woman, one of the smartest he’d ever met, and she wasn’t the type to bury her head in the sand even if it meant saving herself a headache…or a heartache.

She’d figure out he’d done something wrong, somehow. She’d figure it out and things between them would crumble into the dust it was already becoming. Which wasn’t…

It wasn’t something he wanted.

He loved Claire.

Really, he did.

Even before they’d become lovers, he’d cared about her, and had wanted her in his life in whatever capacity he could have her. He didn’t want for things between them to get any messier than they already were. Not with all the love and affection and history between them; the good and bad times that made up their relationship over the years.

It would be stupid to just throw that all away.

But…

It wasn’t that simple anymore, was it.

Hadn’t been since the fighting had started; the long-winded arguments that had turned into barbed little comments and backhanded insults. Hurtful words flung at each other like razor blades because they’d become so good at it over the years. The both of them punching down more often than not because it was easier and uglier, and they were barely able to look at each other anymore without feeling hurt and angry and sick of the whole fucking situation. Resentment spreading between them like black ink splashed on a blank page because they couldn’t seem to ever fucking _talk_ about it anymore without it turning into a free-for-all of insults and accusations, of name-calling and meanness.

For fuck’s sake, he couldn’t even remember the last time they’d had a real conversation. A _civil_ conversation even, and not just a handful of meaningless pleasantries exchanged periodically throughout the day as they tried to pretend that everything between them was still all right and not falling apart around and between them. They were…

Fuck, he didn’t even know anymore.

They’d both made so many mistakes, so many fucked up decisions. Decisions like moving in together far too soon, when the wreckage of InGen and Jurassic World was still falling down around them. Trying in vain to cobble together a life together when everything was going wrong around them.

Looking back, he knew they should’ve waited. Should’ve gotten to know each other better first at least. Should’ve tried more, did more, to make things work. Should’ve…

They should’ve done a lot of things.

If they had, maybe he wouldn’t have put them in this position. Put _himself_ in this position. Maybe he wouldn’t have – have –

Fucked her nephew.

He needed to say it. Needed to admit it. He’d fucked her nephew.

Zach.

He’d fucked Zach.

Right there in her sister’s living room. On her sister’s couch. In full view of anyone who might’ve come down in the middle of the night and seen him threading his fingers through the kid’s hair as he’d kissed and sucked and bit at the boy’s mouth, tongue and teeth mapping out every inch of it.

His lotion slick fingers pumping in and out of the kid as the darkness around them stretched and filled with the sound of Zach’s whimpers and groans, obscene fucking _moans_ that he’d tried desperately to muffle. Zach’s beautiful filthy mouth open and slick and puffy red from the few frantic minutes when he’d scrambled to his knees and sucked Owen down and got him so wet. Moaning like a whore as Owen had fucked himself past those pouty lips and gasped desperate and filthy words at him, eyes half-lidded and satisfied as he’d encouraged the kid to touch himself.

He’d looked like a fucking wet dream beneath Owen after that: jeans bunched up around one ankle, socks forgotten, and his t-shirt rucked up under his armpits, so Owen could bite and suck and play with his nipples; tease them while he slicked himself up with lotion that smelled like fucking peaches and cream. His body had trembled beneath Owen’s as he’d cursed lowly, a keening noise catching somewhere in the back of his throat as Owen had worked his cock into him, slow and steady and in one long stuttering thrust until he’d been fully seated and shaking with how fucking good it felt. Lips dragging over sweaty shaky skin as he’d waited for the kid to adjust to the thickness of his cock and then…

He'd fucked Zach.

There was no other way to say it.

No other way he _wanted_ to say it.

He’d fucked him.

Like he hadn’t fucked anyone in years. In decades. In quite possibly the whole of his fucking life.

His body, his hips, had moved with a mind of their own. His mouth swallowing up every cry and groan and whimper. Every fucking filthy plea for Owen to never fucking stop _._

_Please, god, fuck yes, oh fuck, Owen, don’t stop, please, don’t stop._

And he didn’t – hadn’t – couldn’t.

He’d fucked Zach like he’d never fuck again. Fucked him like he could fuck out every bit of pain and anger and hurt he’d ever felt over the last few years and make it all go away inside the kid’s body. Fucked him like – like he couldn’t _not_.  Like he _had_ to. Like his life fucking _depended_ on it.

On him.

On Zach.

On Owen wringing out every bit of pleasure he could from the kid because Zach fucking deserved it. He _deserved_ it. With that hair. With that body. With that _mouth_.

With that – that _way_ he’d managed to crawl under Owen’s skin from the moment he’d walked through the goddamn door, so fucking changed from the last time Owen had seen him that Owen had felt something twist in his gut at just the sight of him, and Zach had loved it.

He’d fucking loved it.

Back arching, body trembling, he’d let Owen take him apart bit by bit, body swallowing him up and milking him for all he was worth. Cock angry looking and drooling, pre-come messy on his belly as Owen had kept him from touching himself; determined to make him come just from his cock alone, and it had taken some time, their bodies slippery from sweat and pre-come but finally, _finally_ , it’d happened, his body tightening and back arching until Owen had gasped helplessly and spilled inside him. 

Slumping forward, he’d pressed a clumsy kiss against the kid’s mouth, tongue dipping inside just a little as he’d crowded them close together, something hungry and desperate pressing up beneath his skin. Zach’s mouth had been soft and perfect as he’d groaned lowly, fingers shaky as they’d skimmed along Owen’s skin. Owen’s cock slowly softening until he’d slipped out with a gasp, come already leaking from the kid’s hole as Owen had stuffed his shirt underneath him, careful to keep as much from the couch beneath them as he could now that the initial rush of desire had passed.

It had been…

He wasn’t sure how to describe it. It had been – good. Maybe too good, and he’d tried to tell himself it was only stress relief afterward. Tried to tell himself it couldn’t happen again because what they’d done was…

It was stupid, and not just because they’d done it out in the open where anyone could’ve seen them, including Gray. Including Zach’s mother. Including _Claire_.

It had been stupid and risky and they never should’ve done it.

But he didn’t – he couldn’t – _fuck_ – he couldn’t regret it. Which was, it was horrible. He knew it was horrible, that _he_ was horrible.

He should’ve regretted it. He should’ve felt that it was wrong. And it was, because he’d cheated on Claire, not just with some stranger, some faceless one-night stand, but with her own nephew. With Zach. 

He should’ve…

He should’ve done and felt a lot of things, but he didn’t – he couldn’t – because he wanted to do it again and again and maybe even again after that.

He wanted – god-fucking-dammit but he wanted to fuck Zach against his bedroom door while Claire sat downstairs with her sister. Wanted to eat the kid out while Claire was taking her morning shower. Wanted to finger the kid open and sit him on his cock while she moved around her sister’s house oblivious to exactly what Owen was doing to her nephew every second he got the chance because there was something about the kid that got to Owen and there was no easy way to explain it.

No easy way to make it right.

Even if he wanted to – which he did, god he did – but it was far too late for that. Far too fucked up for that, because Claire would never forgive him for this. Would never understand about this. Especially since…

Especially since Owen was probably going to do it again – and again – and again after that until he knew every part of the kid. By taste, by touch, by fucking _sound_ if he could, and he knew they’d get caught eventually, he knew they would, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care.

Because he wanted Zach. He _wanted_ him, maybe even more than he’d ever wanted Claire, which was its own kind of fucked-up, but it was true. It was true, and he knew there would be hell to pay for it. From Claire, from her family, from maybe even Zach too because the kid didn’t know, couldn’t know, how much Owen wanted him, needed him, and wasn’t going to give him up.

Even if it was supposed to be just stress relief between them. Even if it was supposed to be wrong. Even if…

Even if it meant losing Claire, because he already was anyway, wasn’t he, and there was nothing he could do about it except wait…and hope, maybe, that losing Claire didn’t mean losing Zach too.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any lingering grammar or tense issues.


End file.
